


Just another coffee shop au

by myEttie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Parent John Winchester, Demisexual Dean Winchester, Fluff, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Minor Violence, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Rating May Change, The plan is for this to be sweet and fluffly, smut may happen, time will tell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myEttie/pseuds/myEttie
Summary: Dean likes soft comfortable things. No one really expects or sees that side of him.Cas sees that side of Dean, in fact its the first thing he noticed. Now he just needs Dean to notice him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Dean was a mechanic. No one who met him was surprised to learn this. He was 6ft 1in in his stocking feet with broad shoulders and an open smile. His hands were large and calloused, many people he met went so far as to mention it. Dean had learnt to shrug it off, though to be honest, lately, people's reactions to him and their assumptions were getting him down.

Yes he was a mechanic, yes he worked with his hands and was physically strong. Yes he wore worn out work boots, jeans and plaid shirts. They were practical and suited the work he did. But they weren’t representative of him as a whole.

His early life had been challenging, he’d lost his mother young, and might as well have lost his father that day too. John never recovered from losing Mary and he never found himself again. When the fire that killed his mom happened, Dean had been 12 years old, his brother Sam had been 8.

Mary had been warm and loving, with sunshine yellow hair. She enjoyed spending rainy days tucked up on the sofa with soft blankets and pillows, her sons and husband tucked in around her. Those lazy days were still some of Dean’s fondest memories. The warmth, the love, and the softness. The smooth texture of the pillows, the silky feel on the fleece blanket against his cheek. He loved it then, as he loves it now. 

While their father fell apart, Dean learnt how to keep it together. He learnt to say he was fine, and then to be fine. He did everything around the house, he cooked, he tidied, he did the laundry. He did things as close to how Mary did them as possible. Why? So Sam would get to have similar memories to him. Happy ones he hoped. 

He used the same detergent and fabric softener as his mother, so when he tucked Sam in at night he’d experience the same comforting lavender scent Dean had at the same age. Dean continued to buy the fabric softener even when his father came home drunk one night and gave out about Dean being soft back handing him across the cheek in the process.

Dean had been prepared to deal with his father until he was 18. He’d planned to get a job, go to social services and report his dad, get Sam out too.

In the end he didn’t have to wait that long. On the eve of his 16th birthday, instead of his father stumbling in drunk at midnight, there was a sharp rap on the door. The police officers hadn’t expected two teenage boys to be home alone. They’d asked Dean if there was anyone he could call. He went to shake his head no, before remembering their Uncle Bobby. He wasn’t a blood relation but he used to join them for Christmas, the only ‘family’ that did. 

By the time they were settled with Bobby, Dean was just used to caring for those around him. Bobby had to sit him down one day and point out the fact that it was now legally Bobby’s job to look after the boys. 

“A job I’m honoured to have, by the way” he’d added, and would Dean kindly let him do it. Dean had eventually relented, but not until you wrote out a very detailed set of instructions for Bobby to follow, it included brand names and several recommendations for stores with the softest fleece blankets. With a deep chuckle the old man capitulated. 

People would be surprised to learn that the gruff old mechanic and scrap yard owner delighted in keeping Mary’s traditions alive, especially rainy Sunday cuddle couches. 

That was the side of Dean that people seemed not to see, or expect or even believe if he mentioned it or tried to show them.

As was his tradition once he got home he was straight into the shower, the grease was washed off, body butter was smoothed on, and in no time he was pulling on the softest cotton pajamas money could buy. His idea of a near perfect evening was one spent curled up on his over-sized over-stuffed couch, cocooned in a nest of blankets reading with the TV on low in the background. All that was needed to make it absolutely perfect? Someone to cuddle with. But for some reason everyone he dated, regardless of whether they were male or female, all seemed to want him to go to bars, or worse, clubs. 

The Road House was Dean’s local, it was owned by Ellen, an old friend of Bobby’s. Dean was happy to hang out there from time to time, but he didn’t want to be there every night of the week, or every weekend for that matter. Drink had literally killed his father, Dean refused to follow his example.

Everyone expected Dean to be into sports, like crazy into it. He liked basketball well enough, but didn’t have the patients for the rest. Thankfully Bobby was as into books as himself and Sam. So if they weren’t watching classics from the 80s curled up on that couch they were reading each other snippets of their favourite books. 

Still no one seemed to believe Dean when he offered book recommendations. “Really,  _ you’ve  _ read Moby Dick?” emphasis on the you, or “You read the cliff notes in high school right?” It was disheartening, why couldn’t people see that he was more than his outside appearance, more than his job?

On his way to work some mornings Dean liked to treat himself to a chai latte from his favorite little coffee shop. What he failed to notice this one particular morning was the gentleman in the queue behind him, but luckily that gentlemen noticed Dean.

  
  


Castiel was a creature of habit, generally raising late and rushing in to work a minute before his class was due to start. But this morning he’d woken un-naturally early. Given he had an hour to kill before delivering his first lecture of the day he’d decided to treat himself to a cooked breakfast. 

There was a slight queue at his favourite coffee shop but thankfully most people seemed to be getting takeaways. Finding a seat would not be an issue. 

Cas was minding his own business when the person behind him stumbled, propelling Cas forward, his nose almost colliding with the back of the man in front of him. 

The scent that emanated from the man stopped Cas in his tracks. He shuffled a smidgen forward and sniffed. Lavender, Cas was 100% certain. 

His eyes scanned the man up down. You couldn’t discern much, Cas thought. Light brown hair, broad shoulders, narrow waist, nice ass, worn jeans and dusty boots. But that scent. The man reached out with his left hand to collect his order. His ring finger was bare, though really did that mean anything? It looked like the man worked with his hands, and a ring probably wouldn’t be practical. 

“Bye Dean” the chirpy barista called as the man turned to leave. Cas tracked his movements, unable to stop himself. The man half turned and waved. “Shit” Cas muttered, the man's face surpassed his physique. He was simply beautiful. Full lips, freckles, Cas felt a little weak at the knees.

“Can I help you?” Can snapped back to the present, he could feel the heat of a deep flush raising in his cheeks he was certain. 

“Can I get a tall latte and toasted cream cheese bagel for here? Please.” as he completed his order he found himself looking toward the door again. Perhaps the beautifully scented Dean would return.

“He comes in on Sundays too,” the barista stated.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Dean, they guy your all heart eyes over? 11am on a Sunday, he sits and stays a while.” the read head smiled at him, her eyes practically sparkling. Cas thought about denying his interest, but why should he. This coffee shop has more than one rainbow flag in the window, it was why it was amongst his favourites. 

“Sunday at 11 did you say?”


	2. Chapter 2

Cas was nervous, unlike Friday, on Sunday he slept in. He’d hoped to wake early, shower, dress, enjoy a leisurely start to his day before heading out to the coffee shop for 11. But no, he’d slept till 10:30, had the quickest shower on record, and literally bounced on one foot while trying to get his shoes on before half jogging half stumbling out the door. He was at the bottom of his apartment’s stairs when he remembered the pin. Huffing a little he turned back. Thankfully the little rainbow pin was in the wooden bowl by his front door, he’d left it there the night before so he wouldn’t forget. He felt it made life easier if the person you were attempting to flirt with realised it. Still he felt harried and a little sweaty as he reached the coffee shop, not cool and calm as he’d hoped.

To make matters worse the coffee shop, Redz Beanz, was packed. Cas was tall, six feet tall, and it still took him a heart stopping two minutes to spot Dean through the throng of people. He was tucked away in the far corner by the window, head buried in a book, the seat opposite him empty.

Cas tapped his foot impatiently as the queue eked along. He prayed to the centre of the universe (he was atheist now, but old habits die hard) that the seat opposite Dean would remain free.

“Gooood Morning, What can I get yeah?” the chirpy greeting had Cas jerking back around, his cheeks aflame, he’d been caught staring at Dean again, and by the same barista it seemed. 

“Oh, yes, em, a latte and, em” Cas scanned the menu above her head frantically, “an apple cinnamon muffin, please.” This was not how he’d planned things, Cas thought somewhat grumpily. 

“Coming right up!” the red head winked at him. She definitely remembered him. 

As he waited Cas began to scan the crowded coffee shop again, his heart nearly stopped as a petite brown haired lady stopped by Dean’s table. Cas bit his lip as he watched. Dean nodded hello, spoke briefly, before the woman moved on and joined a table of women on the opposite side of the room. Cas nearly laughed as he felt his shoulders sag with relief. 

“Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

Cas turned back around, the red head was smiling indulgently at him. 

“I’m sorry, I..” Cas didn’t really know what to say. He was captivated by a total stranger, it was preposterous, especially at his age, he was very nearly 37 for goodness sake. 

“Don’t sweat it,” the red head said, as she placed a tray down on the counter. “Just know, there is a lot more to Dean than that pretty face.” The look she gave Cas was knowing, it was clear that people had underestimated her friend before. 

“I am certain that Dean is an awful lot more than a pretty face.” Cas offered, keeping his thoughts on Dean’s lavender sent to himself.

“If you hurt him, you’re barred.” 

Cas nodded his understanding as he reached for his tray. 

“I’m Charlie, friends call me Red.” Charlie stuck her hand out over the counter.

“Castiel, friends call me Cas.”

“Nice to meet you Cas.” Charlie's grin was mischievous, Cas wondered if he should be concerned or pleased that she chose to use his nickname so readily.

“Nice to meet you too, Red.” his tone was slightly uncertain, as though he expected reproach. 

“Go sit.” she all but commanded, nodding pointedly in Dean’s direction.

Charlie really was the best Dean thought as he sipped his latte, his book held easily in his free hand. She’d noticed how busy the shop was this morning and slapped a reserved sign on the table for him. He hadn’t even realised she had reserved signs. 

“Hey Dean!”

The overly sweet tone had Dean biting back a groan. Not again, he thought, when would she take the hint that he wasn’t interested?

“Hey Lisa.” Dean tried to keep his tone neutral, not wanting to seem encouraging. 

“How have you been?” she asked, taking a step closer to his chair. Dean leaned back towards the window hoping to put some space between them.

He glanced past her shoulder, spotting the table filled with ladies across the room. “I’m good, it em, it looks like your friends are waiting.” he motioned his book in the ladies direction. 

Lisa raised a hand dismissively, “They can wait.”

Dean frowned, rude he thought.

“Lisa!” The cheerful call from the table of ladies saved Dean from having to come up with some polite way to ask her to leave. With a sigh and a small wave she left. Thanks be, Dean thought, returning his focus to his book. He’d dated her for a few days (more like a day), what, ten years ago? 

It had been senior year, he was 18 and had just about figured out he was bisexual, but with a preference for men. He knew he was popular, occasionally a girl might catch him alone and try to get him to ask them out, but he never took the bait. The odd guy or girl would catch his eye, but he’d chosen to stay out of the dating pool in high school, he had way too much going on at home. First it had been looking after Sam, and keeping the house in order, then settling into life at Bobby’s. He’d struggled to keep up his friendships, Red and Benny were the only two who put up with his unavailability. Romantic relationships were an impossibility. 

But Lisa had cornered him. He’d been chatting by his locker with a few of the guys from the baseball team. Dean played, mainly in the hope of getting some scholarships to put towards college, he was good, but didn’t actually enjoy it. The locker room could be toxic and most definitely homophobic. Another reason Dean had avoided dating, with his preferences, well, it would have made life more difficult when it was already difficult enough. 

Lisa had just strolled over, linked their arms together as though it was her right, and basically told him that he was taking her to prom. He hadn’t been able to think of a way to say no. Lisa was considered one of the most attractive girls in school, she was head cheerleader, did well academically, saying no would have been social suicide. Not to mention humiliating for Lisa. With only two months left in school saying no didn’t seem worth the risk. So he’d agreed.

It had been awful. Dean had done everything by the book. He hired a nice suit, he’d gotten Lisa a corsage to match her dress. Bobby had even let him borrow the Impala. But once they got there Lisa had been all over him. Way over the top, stroking his arm, petting his cheek, kissing him all the time. Dean had felt very uncomfortable, even thinking of it now had a shiver running through him. It became clear as the night went on that she wanted the full ‘prom’ experience and expected him to provide it. 

At one point she walked him backwards off the dance floor to a darkened hallway. He remembered her kissing him deeply but not really responding. “What is wrong with you?” she’d demanded.

Dean didn’t have an answer, but he just knew he wasn’t up for more that night, maybe if they knew each other better or had spent some time together outside of school, but he didn’t want his first time to be with a near complete stranger. As politely as he could he told her that he wasn’t interested in having sex with her. 

“What, are you gay?” she’d all but shouted at him, the possibility of a guy just not being attracted to her was clearly outside the realm of her experience. 

“No, not all the way gay.” Dean had found himself saying, “I’m just not ready to have sex. Not with you, not with anyone.” 

She’d shoved him against the wall and stormed off.

Dean had rang Bobby. He’d stumbled over his words, the fingers of one hand buried in his hair as he leaned against his locker fighting back tears. Bobby seemed to understand, he told Dean he’d ring Lisa’s parents, make sure her dad knew to collect her. He talked Dean down until he felt it was safe for him to drive home. 

That night Bobby sat up with him on the couch under a pile of blankets as Dean tried to explain his sexuality.

Dean smiled at the memory. Bobby didn’t need Dean to explain, he just understood. Dean liked boys more than he did girls, but still liked some girls. His attraction to a person intensified as he got to know them. Bobby saw nothing wrong with that, some people might say Dean was old fashioned, others would say he was demi sexual, but so long as Dean was happy Bobby didn’t give a shit. That night Dean had fallen asleep feeling, seen, respected and loved. Lisa had fallen asleep with a substitute. 

Dean shook his head, cutting off his trip down memory lane. The months that followed prom had been, well unpleasant was as good a word as any, and Dean had decided long ago not to dwell on it. He was not responsible for Lisa's or anyone else’s actions.

The sound of a throat clearing brought Dean back to the present. He lifted his head, a tall dark haired man with bright earnest blue eyes greeted him. “Em, yes?” he asked, unsure of what this stranger expected of him.

“Could I sit?” It was then that Dean realised the man was holding a tray in one hand and motioning to the empty chair with the other. 

“Oh, em, sure.” Dean replied, a smile threatening to stretch across his face as he noticed the small rainbow pin on the pocket of the handsome man's shirt, Lisa and past hurts forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually updated on time, go me!  
> Anyone any suggestions for what book Dean is reading? I've not read Vonnegut, I was thinking Catch 22, or maybe Fahrenheit 451? Aristotle and Dante Discover the secrets of the universe?

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get back in to writing regularly, so I am hoping to update weekly. Please don't hate me if I miss a week.   
> Right now this is teens and up, I suspect given my past form that this will change to mature and or explicit in time. I will up date the rating when the time comes.   
> It has been a while since I tagged, so if I missed anything important out, please let me know so I can add it in.


End file.
